


Words, Words, Words

by Mem_Again



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: ...All right they're bitter as hell., Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Because just being a mutant wasn't a raw enough deal on its own, But mutants are not!, Everybody is born tattooed with the first words their soulmate says to them, Humor, It beats crying, Just like in a 'Once upon a time there was a dude with a drinking problem' way, Mentions of alcoholism, Most of the time., Not in reference to any of the characters, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, That is... mostly true., The students of Xaviers' will tell you they are over it, You know how it works:, You laugh because what else can you do?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 04:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14488365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mem_Again/pseuds/Mem_Again
Summary: Stories about Soulmarks, and the people who don't have them.





	Words, Words, Words

Jean's not sure how the subject of soulmarks came up.

They're all in the living room, Kitty dozing fitfully on the couch, Scott staring into space from the lone armchair, and Rogue playing herself in a one-sided game of poker while Evan and Kurt crowd around her in an effort to learn through osmosis. They're sharing a bottle of terrible beer which Scott is pointedly pretending not to see and Kurt is insulting each time he takes a sip. He shows no signs of stopping.

"I never really thought about them 'til I first learned how to read," he tells them with the air of a stand up comic. "It was just like- I dunno. Freckles, or something. Just something people have. But _then_ I learned how to _read_ the freckles, and I start realizing these freckles are a big deal. And I can't find mine."

Evan barks a laugh and takes a swig of beer with a 'We've-all-been-there' look. Jean fidgets uncomfortably.

"So I think about this," Kurt continues, grabbing the bottle from Evan. "And with all the logic you have at age seven- _Mein Gott_ , it's like drinking frozen gnat's piss- I come to the conclusion that _they must be under my fur_."

This time Scott laughs too, already knowing where this is going. Kurt grins. 

"So I wait until my Dad's gone to work, and I steal his razor. I hide it under my pillow. I pretend to be taking a nap when my mom comes to check on me, and then I sneak into the bathroom, lock the door and start shaving myself."

"Oh no."

"Oh no is _right_. Seven year olds shouldn't be shaving _anything_. Like, from the very beginning there's blood, and I'm pretending I don't see it, and I'm getting more and more panicked the longer I go because I'm like, two-thirds hairless, I look like I've just murdered someone, and _I can't find my words_." 

He chugs some more beer, making a face as he does. "Someday I'm taking you all to Germany to show you what this is SUPPOSED to taste like. This is just sad. So, anyway, at some point my mother notices I've been asleep for way longer than usual and goes to check on me, and of course, I'm not there. And then she sees the bathroom is locked and she nearly breaks down the door in a panic, thinking I've accidentally killed myself. And then the door opens and there I am, covered in blood and bawling my eyes out because-"

"I DON'T HAVE WORDS!" They all chime in. From the couch, Kitty gives a soft grunt and turns over. 

Kurt chuckles, shaking his head, and they all laugh with him because he expects it. If there's one thing he can't handle, it's pity- and in a fucked up way they can only truly appreciate from personal experience, it is kind of funny.

They fade into silence again and Jean shifts with discomfort. Courtesy dictates that someone else share their story- if Kurt's going to spill his guts, however he chooses to do it, it's only fair. A black hole opens up in Jean's stomach.

She doesn't want to talk about this.

She _really_ doesn't want to talk about this.

"I was ten," Scott suddenly says from the chair. They all turn to look at him and Jean's ashamed of the relief she feels. "I was ten, and I'd already been in foster care for like, a year or so. I'd been kicked out of the last place a couple days before, and I was staring at myself in this crappy little mirror in the gas station bathroom while the social worker waited outside and then all of the sudden I realized that I wasn't a late bloomer, or whatever the scientific term the doctor gives you is. I just wasn't going to get them."

Rogue stills over her poker game.

"So what'd you do?" Kurt asks, offering him the beer. Scott hands it back but keeps the bottle cap, running it between his fingers like a coin. He takes a minute to reflect before answering.

"I... okay, you're going to think I'm the biggest asshole-"

"I've always thought you were an asshole," Evan offers with a half grin to show he's not serious. Scott snorts and flicks the bottle cap at him in a momentary lapse of maturity.

"Ow. See? Asshole."

"The next day I took a bus down to the library and started looking up everything I could find about soulmates who didn't make it. Documented cases... statistics... those, those urban legends where somebody goes crazy and kills their match..."

That gets a laugh. It probably shouldn't.

"Just, anything to prove that the Soulmark Factor isn't infallible. That it can still be wrong." Scott's mouth twists in a self-deprecating smirk. "That someone with words could still end up just as alone as someone without."

No one laughs this time.

"Well?" Evan finally asks, eyes boring into the cards Rogue won't touch. "Anything?"

"A few cases," Scott answers after a second of hesitation, staring at the ceiling. "Mostly coincidences where they weren't actually soulmates- those one in a billion things where the wrong people both say the right words at once. But there was one..."

They're all watching him now. Scott continues talking to the ceiling.

"There was this interview from some time in the 50s. This woman met her soulmate when they were both twenty-five. They were perfect for each other, yin to yang, stars to sky. He just... he was smart and funny and good with words and he _knew_ her- knew her like nobody else could, like matches are supposed to. But he drank.

"She didn't realize it was a problem until after they married. He told her he could control it, and he really believed he could, so she did too. But it turned out he was wrong and she kept begging him to get help, but he just couldn't admit to her, or himself, or _anyone_ that he couldn't do this. And the worst part was that when he was sober, he seemed like the same man who first said her words. Still her perfect match. I remember her saying she felt like she'd fell in love with Dr. Jekyll and ended up married to Mr. Hyde.

"He didn't come home one night. They found him in the gutter the next day."

Scott's gaze drops from the ceiling to his folded hands.

"At the end they asked if she regretted it. She said the time she had with the real him was something she'd never give up. That she felt lucky to have loved him and lost him, instead of never knowing him at all."

No one speaks. Kurt stares at the floor. Evan clenches his fists. Jean thinks from far away that she might be crying and makes no move to check.

Rogue abruptly throws her cards down and stalks out of the room. Evan rolls his eyes, scowling mutinously at her retreating back.

"She's trying, okay?" Kurt murmurs in response to Evan's unspoken accusation. "It's hard for her."

"It's hard for all of us. We still manage to treat each other civilly."

"Evan-"

"Look, this sucks. I'll be the first to admit that it sucks. But you don't get to act like nobody matters or can possibly understand what you're going through when we're all going through it too. She can make an effort. We're in the same damn boat."

"Yeah," Jean says, speaking for the first time, voice low. "But it's a shitty boat."


End file.
